


The Feather

by belovedhypnos



Series: Soft Things [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Feathers & Featherplay, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, No Sex, Oblivious Castiel, Pining, Season/Series 08, Shipper!Sam, in a sweet way, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 20:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belovedhypnos/pseuds/belovedhypnos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas has left behind an item that Dean has grown quite fond of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Feather

**Author's Note:**

> This is my explanation of how Dean got the angel feathers he mentioned in 8x13 (and was so mad to lose one of them...).

Dean kept it with him, hidden in one of the pockets of his duffel bag.

A long, dark feather. One he had noticed floating to the floor after Castiel had poofed off one day, one he had picked off the floor and taken it into his care, not really knowing why. Maybe it was because it was the exact color as Castiel’s hair: dark chocolatey brown, and so, _so_ soft. How would Dean take note of such a thing? Well, maybe he had made a habit of… _feeling_ it every once in a while. He’d be alone in a motel room or Rufus’ cabin, and he’d go through his bag – definitely not looking for any item in particular – and the feather would just... end up in his hand. He would fiddle with it absent-mindedly, idly trace it across his cheek and jawline, sometimes letting it brush his neck, closing his eyes as he felt delightful little shivers spread through his body. Of course, at this point he’d remember it was actually _Castiel’s_ feather, and he’d start feeling guilty, as if he’d been sniffing the angel’s underwear or something - the touch would start feeling just _wrong_ , and he’d put it back.

He took good care of keeping his little treasure hidden from Sam. That was why he was absolutely mortified to wake up one morning with the feather lying on his chest and Sam staring at him with from the table, clearly deeply amused.

“Is that… an angel feather?” he snorted behind his coffee mug.

Dean felt his face growing hot as he shifted on the bed quickly and tucked the feather underneath his pillow.

“Aww”, Sam commented with a grin.

“Shut up”, Dean muttered sleepily, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. _Shit._ Apparently he had fallen asleep while holding the feather after consuming a half a bottle of whisky and missing Cas maybe even more than usual.

“Did Cas give it to you?” Sam asked. That grin hadn’t exactly left his face yet, and it made Dean’s blood pressure rise.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Why do you assume it’s Cas’?” he muttered, trying to keep his voice indifferent, rubbing his face with his hand.

Sam just shrugged. Dean cursed that knowing smirk on his brother’s face.

*

Dean had thought getting caught by Sam would be the worst thing that could happen. But no. Apparently the fates were determined to give him as much embarrassment as they possibly could cram into his already shitty life.

Some weeks later he finally took the feather out again. This time he had made sure Sam wouldn’t get to the cabin in 24 hours, and this time he was 100% sober. He pressed the feather against his cheek, sighing at the sensation. Its silky softness made him feel strangely warm and fuzzy inside. It reminded him of the feeling Castiel often gave him: how that easy, feather-light joy crept into his chest when he was close to the angel, and the weight of the world seemed just a tad easier to carry, his past and all its pain just a little farther away.

He brushed the feather along his cheek, thinking of Castiel. His mind started wandering off as he closed his eyes. He wondered how the angel’s hair would feel like, how his skin would feel like, naked against his. He thought of Castiel in his arms, in his lap, under him… The though gave Dean a tight feeling in his chest, and something hot and wet started welling in the pit of his stomach. He slowly let the feather approach his lips. He hesitated for a moment, the softness tickling the corner of his mouth… Then he blushed vigorously at his own actions and snatched the feather away from his face like it was on fire, snapping his eyes open. His blush only grew deeper shade of crimson as he saw Castiel standing in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Is that…?” the angel said, his eyes fixed on the feather Dean quickly hid behind his back, staring at the carpet, absolutely mortified.

A long silence followed. Dean swallowed hard, opened his mouth, closed it again.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s yours”, he said finally, trying to remain as collected as possible. He had always accused the angel of being a creep with his staring and sneaking up on sleeping people, but Dean had to admit that right now - _he_ was the bigger creep. A creep times thousand. “I just… I thought I might need it one day. You know, in a spell.”

“Oh.” Castiel seemed genuinely curious, blinking at him and tilting his head. “Were you making a spell when I interrupted you?”

 _God._ Dean wanted to cry with humiliation.

“No”, he admitted, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket. “I guess I just…” What the fuck could he say? I just like to touch myself with your feathers? You sick pervert, he said to himself, giving him a huge mental slap. “I was just examining it”, he said, almost gritting his teeth with fury at himself.

He glanced at Castiel. The angel squinted. No way was the angel buying it, no matter how oblivious he could sometimes be.

“Dean”, Castiel said hesitantly. “If you like my feathers, just say so.” Dean’s heart skipped a beat, and his eyes darted up at him with disbelief. Castiel seemed a little shy and uncertain, shifting awkwardly on his feet and giving him a bashful look.

“Well, Cas”, Dean said, feeling pretty disarmed. He made a hesitant pause, taking a deep breath. “I like your feathers.”

A small smile curved up Castiel’s lips. His eyes seemed to glimmer with a joy Dean had rarely seen in them. Dean held his breath.

“Do you want more of them?” he asked, excitedly.

Dean frowned. Cas was... flattered?

“Sure”, he said, a little baffled.

And poof! Castiel was gone. Dean leaned back on his bed, letting out a long sigh. An almost bitter smile tugged at his mouth. Castiel didn’t seem to be at all offended, on the contrary, but he clearly didn’t understand what was really going on either. Not that Dean had expected him to understand. Castiel knew only that Dean liked the feather – he didn’t realize that the feather was kind of a symbol of him to Dean.

So, Dean was safe, but somehow that didn't make him as happy as he thought it would.

Soon Castiel was back, providing Dean with some dozen new, smooth feathers.

“I’m sorry I had to leave”, Castiel said. “But it’s a little embarrassing. Plucking them, I mean.” He looked like he was remembering something rather unpleasant.

Dean blinked at him. “Cas, man, you didn’t have to pluck them for me”, he said as he accepted the gifts. “You could have just… waited until some fell off.”

The angel only smiled, like he was happy and proud to pluck his wings for Dean. “If I notice any falling off, I’ll bring them to you”, he said happily. And then he was gone again, no explanations why he had showed up in the first place. No answers, and no further questions.

Dean sunk on the bed, the soft bunch of feathers in his lap. He took one of them, hesitating for a moment before bringing it to his mouth, this time allowing himself to imagine the softness of Castiel’s lips.

*


End file.
